


Perish

by avearia



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: AU, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Injury, Corpses, Dark, Fire, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), OC villain - Freeform, Pursuit, Reanimation, Weapons, Zombies, incomplete work, zombie dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avearia/pseuds/avearia
Summary: A new ghost is in town, one with the power to animate the dead. As everything falls to pieces around him, Danny struggles to protect not only his friends and family, but his town—and the world—from utter destruction on the eve of a Zombie Apocalypse.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Perish

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old project. Like, old-old. Five years old. But you know how, as you get better at writing, or drawing, you look back at your old work (even your best stuff) and think 'man, this isn't actually that good'? ...That never happened for this piece. It was exciting when I first wrote it five years ago; it's still really fun to read now. I think it might be the best opening I've ever written.
> 
> That said, it's an OLD project. I know where I'd want the story to go, if I continued it, but it would be tough to write and even harder to match the quality of this first chapter. So I don't know if I'll ever update this. But the Ectober 2020 prompts - "Reanimated" and "Plague" respectively - reminded me of this piece, and I figured hey, if I'm ever gonna post this, it's probably now. I'll be marking this as complete, but if you'd like to follow it on the off chance I'll update someday, go for it.
> 
> Also, side note, if I ever do update, there'll be character death. Lots and lots of it. Can't tell a zombie story without death, after all.
> 
> You've been warned.

_Those who Perish _

—

A loud _crack_ echoed through the air as Danny half-flew, half-crashed, through the charred roof of the warehouse. Bits of nails and splintering wood shook loose as he fell. He hit the floorboards hard, skidding across the room and stirring up a cloud of dust in his wake before finally coming to a stop.

Danny gasped for air. His Phantom form flickered out of sight, rings parting to leave a human boy, drenched in sweat and soot, crumpled on the floor.

Despite his exhaustion, adrenaline helped him move; Danny flipped over onto his stomach and stumbled up, diving for the shadows. Summoning the last of his power, Danny's image flickered and vanished.

No sooner had he secured his hiding place than a shrill sound met his ears. His pursuer was close behind, flying so fast that a whistling shriek followed him. When the sound reached its peak, Danny looked up at the hole he'd made in the ceiling and saw a black blur shoot past. Moments later, it came to a sudden, violent halt, sending out a deep pulse that rattled the building as it slammed into the ground outside.

A chill descended, choking the air with ice and rot. Danny swallowed. He peeked around from his corner just enough to glimpse out the nearby broken window.

The enemy ghost slowly rose from his crouch, folds of its black trenchcoat uncreasing as it straightened. For a moment, all was still.

Black leather creaked as the ghost moved, slow and deliberate. Its head turned around, almost disjointed from its shoulders, revealing a blank face, sunken eyes, and white skin drawn taut to the bone.

 _Necron._ The ghost of decay.

His sunken eyes bore into the warehouse for a terrible moment. They seemed to linger on the window, perhaps somehow seeing the invisible boy on the other side. At last his head continued its slow rotation, eyes scanning for his prey. With a sickening curl, the head rolled back into place, gazing straight ahead.

" _Where…"_ Necron's voice rumbled deep, _"Are… You."_

Danny remained locked in place, breath caught in his throat. Goosebumps rippled over his flesh as the air grew even colder. In his vision, Necron's black, incorporeal aura radiated outward, tainting the surroundings. The pavement cracked. Grass turned to brittle hay. The tree closest to the aura began to wither and groan.

' _Breathe,_ ' Danny's instinct demanded. He wasn't in ghost mode anymore. He needed air. Yet he remained frozen in fear, jaw clenched tight, body refusing to twitch or blink or breathe. Because surely Necron would find him if he dared to breathe.

He hoped he wouldn't suffocate.

Necron paused a second longer, then began to move forward, out into the center of the vacant street. Nearby cars, abandoned on the road mid-drive, were pushed aside with the sweep of his hand. Their metal screeched onto the sidewalk, rocking once Necron's telekinesis let them fall. Their exteriors began to rust.

Necron turned, planting his feet firmly on the blacktop as he looked left, then right. Nothing else moved.

The ghost's gaunt face turned, sunken eyes visible again. His thin mouth was set into a frown.

" _Slaves,"_ his deep voice commanded, echoing through the empty square, bouncing off the walls of the ruined buildings.

Under the half-decayed tree, something fluttered. A bird with one wing stood from its resting place, flapping its feathers to tumble forward. Across the street, a figure appeared in a darkened window, shoulders jerking as it crawled out and down to the ground. A woman— _thing—_ with no legs dragged itself from underneath a car. Two men shambled through a doorway, blood dripping from fatal wounds on their necks, slowly approaching their master.

Necron held up a hand. _"Find me the boy."_

Each corpse stopped. They hovered, hollow eyes fixed on Necron.

Then, in unison, each turned to obey. Danny saw shadows of other figures in alleyways, amongst buildings. More things flickered in the darkness. They were everywhere.

Danny's vision began to darken at the edges. ' _Breathe,_ ' his mind told him again, his throat trying to release the breath he'd been holding for too long. _'You must breathe!_ '

The door creaked open. About to chance a breath, Danny froze again, bracing for the worst. The snout of an animal peeked in, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. Slowly, it stuck a paw in, then the other.

Hinges creaked as the door opened just enough to let the undead dog inside. It plodded in sluggishly, nose to the ground and tail between its legs.

The creature ambled over across the wide expanse, drawing ever-closer to Danny's hideaway. It wobbled a little, wounded legs struggling to support a bloated body. The stench was almost tangible, prickling Danny's skin and encouraging him not to breathe in.

It stopped a mere five feet away, raising its head. There were no eyes in its sockets, only darkness and ooze. _It couldn't see—_

The dog sniffed the air, then began a low growl.

— _but it could smell._

Before Danny could turn and run, the dog crouched, baring teeth and snarling _._ The sound echoed off the walls, filling the room and spilling onto the street. Snarling gave way to barking, each bark like a thunderclap to the halfa's ears. Could Necron hear that? Danny's wide eyes snapped over to the window, but Necron wasn't in his sight anymore—

" _Silence."_

Danny nearly swallowed his tongue.

The dog immediately whined and backed off. Necron stood there in the warehouse with them, body set like stone. Sunken eyes stared at the seemingly empty corner.

Spots were forming in Danny's vision now, dancing about and obscuring his sight. His chest ached with the unbearable need for oxygen.

He remained stiller than ever. He didn't dare breathe. Necron would hear it and kill him.

Necron considered the spot for a moment, then walked forward. His footsteps each gave a small tremor in the ground; oddly solid for a ghost.

As Necron loomed closer, every nerve in Danny's body fought for control. _Flee! - Hide! - Freeze! - Run! - Scream!_ Each demanded something different. Danny's discipline, and fear, kept him rooted to the spot as Necron advanced.

Blind with emotion and lack of air, the halfa almost didn't notice at first. Necron's course was a little off; the ghost wasn't approaching the corner where Danny sat pressed desperately against the wood. He was walking a little to the right of that, eyes cast downwards.

Danny's eyes chanced a flicker to see beside him. If he had any air in his lungs, he would've screamed.

Apparently he wasn't alone. Another dead man lay inches from his foot, also hidden in the shadows.

Wild panic nearly took over until Danny realized this corpse, unlike the others, wasn't moving. It was only a boy, college age, lips open in a dead scream. Both of its cold hands stiffly clutched a fire axe. Dust was settled into its hair, skin, and clothes. It had been here for a while.

Necron stopped, eyes locked on the corpse, standing centimeters away from touching Danny. Danny tried to will intangibility; it didn't come. His mind screamed instead, begging for air until he could think of nothing else.

" _A fresh body._ " Necron reached out. He grabbed the dead body by the neck and hauled it up for a better look. He spoke, dead voice tinted with satisfaction. _"A new slave."_

With his free hand, Necron reached for his own neck, but stopped short. His fingers hovered above his chest, grasping empty air. Necron's lips twitched; his eyes widened.

" _My talisman…"_

Necron's body jerked, his normally-blank face suddenly snapping into rage. _"MY_ _ **TALISMAN!**_ _"_ he roared, black aura flaring up like fire. It shook the warehouse. _"He took my talisman! Find him! FIND HIM!"_

The undead dog fled the room, tail between its legs. Necron hurled the corpse into the far corner so hard it crushed through the charred wall, creating another hole in the burned-out building. The fire axe clattered to the floor inches from Danny's feet.

Necron spun, eyes wild as he drew all his power to him, creating a suffocating pressure in the room.

The pressure on Danny's chest was too much. His whole vision clouded with static. Primal instinct took over; Danny needed to breathe. Every muscle, every nerve, demanded air. Danny opened his mouth, gaping, hand wrapped around his neck as his chest desperately worked to draw in a breath of air. His whole body was screaming for just one breath before he passed out.

It couldn't be done. Necron's building power was like being crushed between stone walls. The pressure overwhelmed him.

Wind whipped around the room, threatening to engulf the invisible teen. His enemy's sunken eyes glared up at the ceiling, blazing with power and fury. Necron bared a fanged mouth, roaring one last time in rage;

" _ **PHANTOM!**_ _"_

In a flash, Necron shot into the air, roof shattering outwards. He flew at an impossible speed, shrieking from the building and out of sight. The escaping pressure drew Danny up off the ground for a moment before gravity slammed him back down into the floorboards, freeing his frozen body.

Invisibility flickered and fell. He gasped for air.

Danny broke into a coughing fit. There was no one left to hear him. Necron was probably a mile off by now. All the zombies – corpses – slaves, or whatever they were called—had fled their master's rage. Even the dead feared Necron's power.

Danny just lay on the ground, head near the college-boy's dry pool of blood, trembling and gasping for air. Slowly, his darkened vision began to return, and the room stopped spinning. Several minutes passed before he found the strength to sit up.

When he did, his whole body protested. His bones creaked, blood rushed from his face, his head throbbed, a sharp pain bit his arm. Everything shook uncontrollably.

His vision clouded with static again. Danny lurched, pressing his head hard against his knees.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. When the latter became difficult, he tried moving again. He couldn't fall asleep. Not here. Not with Necron out for blood and corpses walking around Amity.

Danny uncurled himself, and the aches began again. Eyes flickering downwards, he examined his right arm; it was smeared with blood and had a long, scabbing cut that reached wrist-to-bicep. It needed bandages.

No other obvious wounds. Bruises everywhere, though.

Instead of tending to his arm, Danny crossed his legs and looked down at his trembling hands. One lay limply in his lap.

The other, his left hand, was wrapped tightly around Necron's talisman.

It was an odd trinket. It was a disc about as wide as his palm, and thick like a medallion. Tarnished Silver. One side had decoration, carved with odd runes circling the edge. They seemed to dance under his vision, gleaming in an attractive, tempting way. The only other ornament was a small, blood-red gem fixated in the center of the medallion.

Danny gripped the talisman hard. His knuckles turned white as his tired mind replayed his close brush with death. Was this talisman worth it?

The corpse of the college student, lying half-lodged in the warehouse wall, caught his eye. Curiosity crept into Danny's head as he watched the corpse's stiff limbs begin to surrender to gravity.

It could've been a zombie by now. Danny wondered what it would've been like, to see Necron animate a corpse right in front of him.

He wondered what making a zombie felt like.

– _Rotting flesh lurched, lifeless eyes boring into his own; red, twisted lips parting to give an inhuman scream –_

Danny looked away abruptly and forced the thought from his mind.

Instead, Danny's free hand reached up and tapped the FentonPhones that were in his ears. "S-am," he choked out, then swallowed; his voice was cracked and harsh.

Sam's static voice responded almost immediately. _"Danny! Oh my god, are you OK? You sound terrible! Where are you, we'll pick you up, just hang on…"_

Danny's nose crinkled in self disgust. "I' _m_ f-i _ne_ ," he rasped, looking down at himself. His typical jeans and t-shirt were forsaken for a black tank top and beige cargo pants, the only non-ripped clothing he could find; he was covered in grime, sweat and blood; and he was so weak he couldn't even turn intangible, let alone go ghost. It was a sad world when this passed for 'fine.'

" _Are you sure?"_ Sam asked, an edge of panic still in her voice. _"We can't lose you. Not now."_

"I'm f – fine." Danny repeated. "…Just… _hoarse._ I…" He faltered.

Where to start.

" _Hoarse? Did you—no."_ Sam was smart enough to guess. _"You used your Ghostly wail. That's what that sound was earlier."_

"…Yes."

Silence.

" _You went after Necron."_

"…Yes."

Silence.

" _Alone."_ Her voice rose in anger. _"Without us. Without us!"_

"I j- _ust_ …" Danny began.

" _Just nothing! I trusted you, and you—you go and—"_ words broke down into garbled hysterics. She was sobbing.

Danny didn't know what to say. Sam so rarely cried. He understood; he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, either. He couldn't face this apocalypse alone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I – I'm not… _hur_ t or an _ythi_ ng."

" _SO?! He's a monster! You could've died! You—did you even_ _ **hurt**_ _him?"_

Danny's head dipped low. "No."

" _Then what good did you do? Huh? You can't keep the standard superhero formula up, you know! You're not allowed to – to valiantly_ _ **die**_ _! You've got people to look after, to protect! All you did was… threaten him, get him angry, make yourself a target—"_

"'Got his t-alisman."

She stopped.

The silence stretched – a little too long. When she didn't reply, an aura of worry settled into his bones. Was she still there? What if their connection had been severed somehow? "S-am?"

" _You—"_ Sam's voice cracked this time, disbelieving. " _His Talisman?"_

Danny's worry ebbed away, leaving only faint anxiety churning in his stomach. He looked down at the silver disc in his hand. "I'm— _tired,_ " he said.

"… _Of course."_ Sam sounded dazed. _"…Are you still near the hospital? Are you safe?"_

"I'm—" Danny realized he had no clue where he was. Fleeing for his life had utterly disoriented him. " _Nec_ -ron flew off. He's look _ing_ for me. Corpses—everywhere. I'm fine." His cracking voice slowly began to even out, but remained hoarse.

" _Where are you?"_

Danny groaned and got to his feet. His knees, back, and head throbbed in protest, shaking with exhaustion. He stumbled towards the hole in the wall and peered out. The street signs were blackened with smoke, and it was hard to pinpoint his position in the darkness—

In the distance, he spotted a large, glowing, neon sign. _Fentonworks._

"…Near Fentonworks. Meet you there?"

" _Geez that's a long ways away—all right. We're almost done loading the medicine into the GAV. We'll head over afterwards."_

"Right. Bye."

" _Danny?"_

"…Yeah?"

" _Be careful."_

"…I know."

" _Sam Over and Out."_

The FentonPhones clicked and went silent. Danny lowered his hand with a sigh.

With Sam gone, there was no sound to keep him occupied. An emptiness echoed off the warehouse walls, and Danny just stood there, surrounded by the stillness.

If he stopped moving, he could almost imagine there was no one walking the earth; no humans, no ghosts, no undead. Just a gentle wind, an abandoned city, and a corpse to keep him company.

The corpse. Danny frowned at the dead college kid lodged in the hole in the wall and blinked. The corpse was wearing a backpack.

 _Perfect—_ Danny thought, reaching down. With a quick glance outside the warehouse – still no zombies in sight – he reached out, sunk his fingers into the guy's jacket, and hauled him back into the building.

The corpse landed with a _thump,_ throwing ash and dust into the air. With a sigh, Danny worked the backpack off the corpse's back, fighting the rigor mortis that had made the corpse's limbs stiff.

Finally, the bag was free. Danny sat and plunked the dark bag down in front of him, opening the largest pocket first. He peered inside.

Danny stared at the contents. There was _everything_ in here—a virtual treasure trove of essential items. A bottle of water, a first aid kit, food, maps, a GPS and cell phone, a pair of clothes, a handgun and bullets, fish hooks, duct tape, flashlight, tarps, matches, soap, lighter, medicine, and a book titled _How to kill Zombies._

Raising an eyebrow, Danny looked back over his shoulder. The college guy lay nearby, vacant eyes open in a death stare. Now that Danny thought about it, the guy looked fairly well prepared. His jeans looked tough, his jacket looked warm and had dozens of pockets, and his boots were sturdy; all had a coating of blood much thicker than Danny would expect from an injury. The blood was probably from multiple encounters with zombies. He'd probably fought—

Danny looked back over to his corner suddenly, remembering: _the fire axe._ The college kid had been holding an axe when he died, conserving ammo.

"One of the smart ones, huh?" Danny's rough voice said, almost sympathetically. He flipped open the _Zombies_ book. The first page was scrawled: _Property of Erik Nyberg._

"I hope you don't mind me taking this, Erik," he told the dead body, motioning to the bag. "I need it."

Erik just stared back.

Danny decided to keep the book, just for fun. He stuffed it towards the bottom, pulling out the first aid kit. It was well stocked, and barely used. Danny swabbed his still-bleeding arm with iodine, then laid a thin bandage over the wound.

He put the kit back when finished, and took a look through Erik's pockets, finding more useful things. A sturdy wristwatch (Danny's was broken), thick twine, a sharp knife, a mirror, a compass, gloves, and a whistle.

Danny borrowed the items, tucking them into his own cargo pants or into the bag. After a moment's consideration, he took out Erik's old t-shirt and wrapped Necron's silver medallion in it, then buried it deep within the backpack. He didn't want to touch that damned thing anymore.

Zipping it up, Danny hoisted the bag onto his shoulders, impressed with how light it felt despite the bounty of materials inside. He gave Erik a smile. "It's too bad you didn't make it," he told Erik, walking over to the corner to fetch the fallen fire axe. "We could've used more fighters like you."

Danny idly thought of the few thousands of other civilians he'd found and steered towards shelter since the apocalypse had started. Most shuffled about, wide-eyed and disorganized, like a bunch of sheep. How had _they_ survived and not people like Erik?

 _Dumb luck, I suppose,_ Danny mused, hefting the axe with his good arm. It was a good weapon. A little heavy—Danny's arm felt awfully tired—but he needed it, just in case.

He really needed to get going. Sam was a ways away, at the hospital, but she was also driving the GAV. If she showed up before Danny did, she'd probably have a heart attack.

Danny sighed. "Bye Erik, thanks for the backpack," he whispered. "If I find anyone else named Nyberg I'll mention you. Maybe they'd like to know you're not one of Necron's zombies yet." He paused, fixing his eyes on Erik's face to remember it, and lingering a moment longer. With a sigh, Danny turned away, looking to the hole in the wall.

Outside was dark, with black clouds churning overhead. The air was dead silent.

Danny leaned out of the warehouse, eyes scanning the area for threats. Not a flicker of life – or unlife – stirred.

Danny took a deep breath, trying to will more energy into his tired, aching body. His eyes set on the Fentonworks sign dimming in the distance.

' _Time to go.'_

Gathering his strength, Danny hopped through the hole and started his trek through the lonely, abandoned streets, towards the place he used to call home.


End file.
